


Return

by rrogers



Series: Stucky ficlets [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff with some angst, M/M, some lighthearted fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrogers/pseuds/rrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has always felt that need to return to his past self, to the kid in Brooklyn who loved Steve Rogers.</p><p>Maybe cutting his hair, cutting off a bit of Hydra, would help with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

He guessed that it was just Bucky wanting to feel back to normal. That’s how he had hoped it was, anyway. The fact that so much of the both of them had changed permanently would be upsetting. 

Bucky was Hydra, and as hard as he tried otherwise, it would always be a part of him. As was his metal arm – or lack thereof, now.  
Steve was Captain America. Even after laying down that shield, his identity as much as his physical appearance was shaped by the serum, for better or for worse.

And both of them had suffered so much. Both of them had loved and lost and felt pain, pain beyond belief. Neither of them could return from it.

But they had each other. They were, well, not exactly safe, and not entirely warm, either, but they were under a roof. Together. They spent most of the day pressed against each other, sitting, lying, sprawled over the tiny, crappy couch that came with the pre-furnished apartment in Brussels.  
Their nights were spent like this, too. With no heating and just a thin blanket between them, they moved to the bed. Steve with his arm wrapped around Bucky’s chest, despite Bucky’s insistence that the remainder of the metal would only chill Steve more than the wind whistling through the window panes. Steve just wrapped his arm around him tighter, pulled him closer.  
A reminder of the times long gone, with Bucky sheltering Steve’s fragile body from the bitterness of the night, all those years ago in Brooklyn, two teenagers. Today, the roles reversed, but the security in the position hadn’t changed. 

So, while Steve was surprised when Bucky came to him with this request, he realised he’d almost been expecting it. That’s why he had agreed so quickly, and that’s how they found themselves in the bathroom that afternoon.

“So you’re sure?” Steve asked, yet again. He held the silver scissors in his right hand, the other resting on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky gave a soft groan.

“Ask again, Rogers, and I’ll be cutting your hair off.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Steve grinned at Bucky in the mirror, squeezing Bucky’s metal shoulder gently. He lifted his scissors, and after a brief hesitation, slid them across decisively, cutting off some of the length of Bucky’s hair. 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked again, after a pause, causing Bucky to laugh. 

 

“Goddamnit, Stevie, what’s this?” Bucky exclaimed, running his hand over the uneven hair, after Steve had declared himself done, “It looks like I’ve had a fuckin – blind man cut it.”

“Come on,” Steve lifted the scissors to emphasise his point, “I did my best. I’m an artist, not a hairdresser.”

“Same difference,” Bucky grumbled, stalking over to Steve, snatching the scissors out of his hand, “I’ve got one arm and I’ll do better than you. Watch this.”

 

Indeed, it was better. Steve was kicked out of the bathroom, the door locked in his face, as Bucky fixed the irregular mess made. So Steve grabbed his sketchpad and sat himself against the bathroom door, mindlessly doodling, before the door opened behind him. Almost falling, he righted himself quickly, twisting to look up at Bucky. 

“Come on, the view is lovely up here,” Bucky grinned, offering his arm to Steve. He took it, pulling himself up, eyes fixed on Bucky.

As soon as he was standing, his gaze drifted to Bucky’s hair.

It immediately struck him how similar to how it used to be, back before the war. Close cropped, but slightly longer than a military cut. The second thought that hit him was how much more content Bucky seemed. How much he had relaxed, a lot of the tension dissipated out of his shoulders. He leaned against the threshold of the bathroom, an easy grin – one Steve hadn’t seen in really over seventy years – lighting up his face. 

They had held back, held back since the two of them had escaped the government’s clutches. There never was a point that seemed right, never a period of time where they felt as if they should just return to the point they had been at before the war. Before their lives turned to shit, before everything was fucked upside down. 

Steve wanted to give Bucky time to heal, give him time to become more Bucky than the Winter Soldier, time to remind himself he was not Hydra’s pawn, and was free. Sure, that had been painful, being with Bucky all day and not being able to do more than share body heat.

Now, though; Bucky, clean shaven and short haired, was more Bucky than ever before in this century. 

Steve closed the gap between them, lifting his hand to press against Bucky’s neck, their lips meeting. Whenever they kissed, back in the the thirties and forties, there was that fear that the other wouldn’t reciprocate. Steve still held it at this point, the pit in his stomach that Bucky wouldn’t want to. 

The fear disappeared immediately when Steve felt Bucky’s lips work against his in return, felt him move off the wooden doorframe to be closer to Steve. This was like every day, every night, pressed against each other, but this time, they were closer still.

**Author's Note:**

> little bit of lighthearted fun ;D 
> 
> maybe check out my [tumblr?](http://rrogers.tumblr.com/)


End file.
